


Mirror Image

by user83278



Series: writing without thinking too much about it [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3B follow up, Alternate Universe - Allison Lives, Gen, Nogitsune Aftermath, Nogitsune Trauma, Non-consensual bite, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/user83278/pseuds/user83278
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Stiles sees Scott sinking his gleaming fangs into the Nogitsune’s extended right arm, a sharp burn in his left arm causes his body to shut down momentarily as their enemy dissolves into a swirl of dark ashes. </p><p>Fire courses through his veins. He cannot breathe. His friends call for him as darkness claims his vision and he faints from pain and exhaustion.</p><p>It is supposed to be over, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on my main story...but I'm moving and things are busy around here, so this is 30 minute speed writing without thinking...

The moment Stiles sees Scott sinking his gleaming fangs into the Nogitsune’s extended right arm, a sharp burn in his left arm causes his body to shut down momentarily as their enemy dissolves into a swirl of dark ashes.

 

Fire courses through his veins. He cannot breathe. His friends call for him as darkness claims his vision and he faints from pain and exhaustion.

 

“Stiles!” Scott calls when he sees his friend sliding to the floor since Lydia isn’t strong enough to carry his entire weight.

 

The dark haired boy leans down next to his best friend, shaking him gently in hopes of coaxing a reaction from him, yet Stiles remains unconscious.

 

“It’s over.” Lydia whispers right next to him before squatting down on the other side of Stiles’ body. “It’s over, Stiles”, she carefully brushes a few strands of sweaty hair out of his face, “we did it.”

 

Scott can see how she’s trying to blink away the tears that have come to her eyes and for a moment, he considers pulling her into an embrace - they are pack, after all - however, Kira shifts his attention from Lydia back to Stiles when she points out that Stiles is bleeding.

 

Both Scott and Lydia look at their friend’s silent form and sure enough, they discover a miniscule pool of blood on the floor. They are confused. None of them still carries the injuries they sustained during their fight with the Oni.

 

Scott tenderly turns Stiles’ body around to check for any types of wounds, yet there are none. The blood is soaking through his sleeve but the sleeve doesn’t show any sign of damage. Lydia is already unbuttoning the shirt, so they can pull back the fabric. Slowly, since they don’t want to cause their friend more pain than he had already suffered through, they remove the outer layer of his clothing only to reveal a bleeding bite wound to his left upper arm.

 

Their eyes widen in shock.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kira’s low voice rings through the empty hallway.

 

It is supposed to be over, isn’t it?

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

When they bring him to Deaton, the veterinarian makes short work of discarding Stiles’ clothing, leaving the boy’s torso bare as he examines him on one of his stainless steel table tops.

 

The teenagers watch him warily as they lean against the wall of the examination room, all too caught up in their own minds to interrupt the doctor with any sorts of questions. Now is not the time for questions but for results.

 

“And you say that he passed out immediately after you bit the Nogitsune?” The man in charge looks at Scott for confirmation.

 

Scott nods vigorously. “Exactly, he didn’t even say anything, he just fell to the floor and then Kira noticed that he was bleeding. We came here right away. What is wrong with him?”

 

“It seems as though the Nogitsune didn’t just copy the body of its current host”, Deaton turns towards them while removing his gloves and throwing them into a nearby trash can, “unbeknownst to us, he established a connection between them. He needed a body since he lacked his own, so when he and Stiles split, their life energies still remained combined. It would also explain why Stiles got weaker the longer they were separated. His human body could not provide the amount of energy the Nogitsune needed to operate.”

 

“But that doesn’t explain the wound.” Lydia plays nervously with one of her curls, a habit she has always disliked as it gives too much away about her emotional status.

 

“Yes, it does, actually. You see”, Deaton points at the mark on Stiles upper arm, “the Nogitsune’s appearance was not in fact that of the dark entity itself. It was much more like a mirror image of Stiles, therefore it was so keen on eliminating Stiles. Without him, he would have been free of a possible tether and threat to his own persona. However, he couldn’t just kill him by himself because at times, even a void trickster spirit has to play by the rules.”

 

“So, by killing the Nogitsune, I injured my best friend?” Scott swallows against a lump in his throat. He already knows about the chaos at the hospital and how his mother got hurt. The mere thought of another family member wounded is not a comforting one right now.

 

“You didn’t injure him, Scott. You gave him the Bite.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved! And as of today, I've got internet access - woohoo! So, here's another part of "Mirror Image"...I now created the series "writing without thinking too much about it". This is where you'll find drabbles and 'trippy' stories (I really LOVED that comment^^) that I use to distract myself from writer's block.
> 
> A huge THANK YOU for your comments, your likes and your bookmarks! This was just a little something that I wrote in 30 minutes and I didn't think that people would actually like it, but hey, the internet is a wonderful place with wonderful people <3

He inhales deeply.

The stench of germicide hits his nostrils hard, yet he doesn’t gag. Instead, he focuses on other underlying scents drifting through the air like invisible strings.

Blood, animals, herbs, sweat, faint traces of perfume and death. Although the odor of the Grim Reaper may be originating from him. He cannot tell for sure. Not at this point. Still, given the fact that a dark void, servant of chaos, has inhabited his body for the better part of the last few weeks - well, it will take more than one shower to get rid of the olfactory testimonies of his possession.

He just lies there with his eyes closed.

He can feel cold artificial light hitting his face harshly, can feel unrelenting steel beneath his body, pricking at his bare skin.

He does not move, though, does not even stir the slightest.

He doesn’t even need to concentrate to hear the voices somewhere in another room. Muffled. He knows that he could overhear the entire conversation, if he chose to.

He just knows.

Knows what happened to him.

Knows all the hows and whys and ifs and buts.

He knows, however knowing doesn’t bother him.

He won’t let it bother him.

He just breathes.

Breathes in tune with the rhythm of a low beat that he feels on the verge of his mind. Like a heartbeat. Steady, controlled, at ease.

He’s alone.

He doesn’t wonder why there is nobody with him. He knows that he’s not that important. Knows that people tend to take things for granted. Knows that even his own father hasn’t been at the hospital when he was born. His mother has told him once.

So why would anybody be there for him now?

The connection which the Nogitsune forced upon him worked both ways. Perhaps it was unintended, perhaps it wasn’t. Stiles saw and now he knows. Saw everything the former kitsune saw. Felt everything as though it happened to him. Knows everything the other learnt throughout his existence. Knows everything the other did towards his family and friends.

He doesn’t blame them for not being here. He understands. Understands so much now.

He doesn’t need to look in order to see. He can feel the vibrations of the steps approaching him. They are practically ringing through the walls, through the ground, through the table over his skin. He can hear a pulse, the rushing of blood. He can smell musk. His senses are creating an image in front of his inner eye. Deaton his coming.

“You’re awake”, there’s no surprise in the druid’s voice. He is stating a fact. Calm and collected.

“Yeah.” Stiles’ voice cracks from dryness. He still doesn’t feel the need to open his eyes, yet he wonders how the older man knew.

Before they can continue their lovely conversation, heels are hitting the floor at a rapid pace.

Stiles almost smiles. Almost. Lydia stayed with him while all others have left. Go figure.

“He’s awake? You’re awake!” She sounds sincerely grateful.

He finally cocks his head to the side, into the direction of her voice, opening his eyelids carefully so he can adjust to the brightness of the light more easily.

She looks worn and tired. Her hair is a mess. She probably played with it while waiting for him to recover from the infectious bite.

“Hey, Lydia.” He cannot muster his usual enthusiasm for her presence and her attention. Priorities shift.

“Hey, Stiles.” She seems relieved, biting her lips nervously. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah”, he’s trying to nod but the simple motion puts an immense strain on his neck muscles. “I remember.”

“Scott didn’t mean to…”

“I know.” He says.

He knows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am overwhelmed with the amount of positive feedback I so far received for this story. You guys are amazing!

Lydia drops him off at his house after Deaton declared him strong enough to leave his care. Even though he is not in the best place both physically and mentally, he insists that she ought to go home herself to pacify her mother who is most certainly worried about the whereabouts of her only child. Lydia looks like she wants to argue, however she doesn’t.

Well, that’s new.

Or perhaps, it is merely a testimony of how fucked up their lives really have become.

Who knows?

Stiles is alone at home. His father is still working to fix the aftermath of the Nogitsune’s relentless need for chaos and pain. He has also not been informed about his son’s… _change_ …yet. They have just texted him that everybody was okay.

 _Okay_.

Those who are alive are far from okay because not all of them are actually alive.

Allison is dead.

Stiles thinks about her body sinking to the ground, Scott holding her, Lydia screaming while the Nogitsune enjoys the scene playing out in front of him. Hot pinpricks burn against his eyes but he will not permit them to create tears. He is not allowed to cry because this is his fault.

Something he is responsible for.

Something he needs to fix.

But how?

He focuses on his breathing, willing it to even out as he lays his head back.

His eyes snap open with the shock of realization.

Void shared probably more than he ever intended to and Stiles has always been a fast learner. Rather practical, too.

The spirit used his body to get around town unnoticed, if it pleased him. Hence, Stiles is now aware of all the ins and outs of the hospital as well as Eichen House.

He memorized them for later use.

For now.

It is 3 am.

There is still time to wake up from the nightmare and Void showed him just how to do it.

\---------------------

Stealth has never been Stiles strongest suit. Of course, that has been _before_. The Nogitsune taught him how to linger in the shadows, to become one of them.

Now, with his newly acquired lycanthropic abilities, he is finally capable of putting this knowledge into practice.

The hospital is still chaotic, hence nobody notices him entering and using the less crowded paths towards his destination in the basement.

The morgue is a silent place. Naturally, it is. There is hardly anybody alive in here. Only a lot of bodies.

It is also cold, yet Stiles has gotten used to the feeling of ice layered upon his skin He never really felt warm ever since they emerged from the tubs a few weeks back.

But most of all, the morgue is currently deserted. The pathologist has left a few minutes ago to grab a bite to eat and some coffee.

It is a few minutes after half past seven in the morning.

Stiles has been busy these past couple of hours.

He knows there is not much time as he slips into the room soundlessly. As he comes to the drawers spread evenly along the far wall, he focuses on Allison and instinctively reaches for a drawer in the bottom row to his left.

He avoids looking at her exposed chest.

She appears so peaceful in her sleep. Maybe he has got no right to do it after all?

He knows, though. Knows that this isn’t real. It’s just another trick that lasts longer than the others because everybody believes it’s real. Even Allison. Otherwise, they would not be here right now.

Stiles gazes past her breasts to her ribcage. The cut has not been sewn shut, it was cleaned, though. Good. This will make things easier for him.

Carefully, the teen reaches into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve a piece of black metal. It does not reflect the harsh lights in the morgue, however, it vibrates against the palm of his hand as it detects its vicinity to Allison.

Allison has been stabbed by the sword of an Oni. An Oni created by the power of a fox’s tail.

Thankfully, the Nogitsune did not bother to destroy the pieces of the tail after it snapped the metal blade in half to receive control over the Oni. Thus, the pieces were still at Eichen House. All Stiles had to do was to collect them.

The longer piece of the broken tail should be sufficient enough.

With utmost precision, he aligns the broken edge with the gaping wound on Allison’s body and while giving her a final look of apologetic sorrow, he pushes the remnant of the blade with one swift move into her.

Energy sources through the girl’s flesh at once. She jerks violently against his hands holding the quickly dissolving tail in place.

Eventually, as the blade has dissipated into raw energy, her body settles down.

At first, Stiles thinks it did not work. Then, he sees it: a miniscule rise of her chest. She’s breathing, if only weakly. As he lifts his hands, the wound that was beneath them is healed entirely, although he can depict a hint of a glitter where there ought to be a scar.

He leaves the drawer open and vanishes into the adjacent hallway when the doctor returns.

There is surprise, then shock, then despair as the man uses a phone to demand _medical support, now!_

\---------------------

Later that day, when his father comes home, he tells his son that Allison did not pass away, but was reported alive while he was doing damage control at the hospital.

Stiles nods. “That’s good.”

His dad stands awkwardly in the doorway.

“Is everything okay, son?”

“Been a long night.” Stiles answers truthfully.

The air between them is strange and the teen cannot pinpoint why. He thinks that he should hug his dad. Thinks that he should want to hug his dad, yet he doesn’t. He also won’t mention the Bite, he just wants to be alone. His father’s presence is bothering him. Something about the man upsets him.

“Do you want to…?”

“No!” The response is immediate and probably too harsh. But Stiles really doesn’t want to. “I never want to talk about this.”

He looks his father straight into the eye. The Sheriff nods even though his surprise at his son’s outburst is obvious. He simply nods and walks down the hall to his bedroom.

Stiles swallows.

Things are bound to change.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter. 'nuff said ;) Also, there are new plot bunnies for drabbles. There's this scene where Stiles gets home late at night, even though he is grounded, and is trying to be ultra silent but he stumbles into Peter, who has been dating his dad for the past months, coming from the kitchen, dressed only in his underwear with a bowl of strawberries in front of his crotch and a can of whip cream and Stiles goes like "that better be non-fat" and Peter just looks at him "do you really think that you are in a position to make demands right now?" Stiles "yeah, given the fact that if I raise my voice right now, I will put an end to whatever evil diabolic plan you have going right here" Peter "you could get grounded even longer" "I don't have much of a live anyway" "that's pathetic" "that's my life" "It's non-fat -- leers --less sticky" "ewww" "go to bed, Stiles" "yeah, try to keep it down, okay?" "I won't make any such promises"

It’s been a week.

Seven days since the defeat of the Nogitsune.

Six days since Allison’s sudden and unexpected revival.

Five days since Stiles’ father learnt about his son’s _current_ _condition_.

It’s been a long week.

Many things have changed, while others stayed the same.

Stiles has not returned to school, yet. He does not quite see the point. Being possessed by an ancient spirit and turning into something you refused to become…it definitely changes one’s perspective on things.

So, Stiles is still at home. He hardly leaves his room unless his dad is around. Somehow, his father’s presence, even if he does not have to share the same space, riles him up. He has given it some thought these past couple of days while cleaning his room. At this point, he figures that his wolf cannot stand his father.

His wolf…it’s a strange thing. Because it isn’t. Not really.

The way Scott described it to him, it was like a voice in the back of your head, only that it wasn’t really a voice but more of a feeling. Something primal. More instinctive. Wild.

It isn’t like that for Stiles, not at all. He does not feel like there is another creature lurking in the dark corners of his mind. He cannot tell where his thoughts end and the wolf’s begin. They are one. One body. One mind. One heart.

Also, there is no struggle for control. Quite the contrary to be honest. Ever since he woke up at the animal clinic, Stiles has felt calm. He has never felt this calm before, at least he cannot recall it. His thoughts are no longer racing, his mouth no longer runs amok, his limbs are actually obeying him for once.

He has not taken any Adderall either.

The silence is almost comforting now that his brain shuts up. Before, silence was unacceptable. It had to be ended. Filled with sound, noises, words. There is no need for that now. Silence is not his enemy but a welcomed guest.

Speaking of welcomed guests…

Nobody bothered to come by thus far.

Scott is obviously busy with his mother. Melissa is still recovering from the injury she sustained by the hand of an Oni. Scott’s father decided not to leave town because he feels obligated to care for his son… _pathetic_. Allison is not back at home either, her freak resurrection is apparently enough of a reason to keep her at Beacon Hills Memorial for now. Lydia texts him several times a day and at times, Stiles will answer, at other times, he won’t.

He uses the time to clean his room. First, he gets all the clutter off the walls. His board of suspects disappears piece by piece until only his usual wall decor consisting of posters and cards remains. It doesn’t look right to him, so he takes all of that stuff down, too, leaving his walls bare. Revealing light and dark patches all over the walls. He will have to paint the walls at one point.

His father frowns at the development, but he chooses not to comment. Good. Stiles is not interested in telling him that it is none of his business.

After the walls, the teen moves onto his floor, his desk and right now, he is sorting out his clothes. If he bothers to begin cleaning his room, he might as well finish it properly.

Stiles hears the front door open without the use of keys. He focuses for a moment before he throws another old shirt into a trash bag. In a way, he expected the visitor, but for some reason, he hasn’t given it that much thought.

“Now take a look at that,” the voice is laced with fake cheerfulness, “what a good little puppy you are cleaning up your room. Good for you.”

“Peter.” Stiles will acknowledge the other’s presence. He is not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, though. With a little bit of luck, it’ll make the older wolf go away, once he realizes that no one wants to play with him.

“Stiles.” Peter no longer lingers in the doorway and enters the room nonchalantly, eyeing the space curiously before he sits down on the bed like he owns the place. Crossing his feet on top of the covers, the man leans back against the headboard. “So, how have you been? We never get to talk anymore, it’s such a shame.”

“We never get to talk anymore because I assisted in killing you. And that one time we did, after you abused Lydia to resurrect yourself, you offered to beat me unconscious, remember? That’s bound to put a damper on things.” The teenager doesn’t look up while he continues to sort out his wardrobe.

“And here I thought you appreciated my presence.” Peter tsks, an air of disappointment marring his features.

“Not really.” Nobody really appreciates Peter’s presence. Still, it is obvious that the former alpha wants something and even though Stiles survived Void, he does not feel like wasting his time on Peter. “What do you want, then?”

“What I want, Stiles?” The boy can feel the other’s eyes on his body. “Well, I want to check up on you. Want to make sure you’re doing alright. This town has seen enough rabid werewolves, don’t you think? Besides, I like you, remember? So why should I not want to see how you reacted to the Bite? It stings a little that Scott eventually got there but, well,” the blond sighs theatrically with a shrug of his shoulders, “I’m not going to hold a grudge against the kid for doing the right thing for once.”

“Well, I’m doing alright.” Another flannel shirt wanders into the bag at his feet.

“Oh, really?” Peter snorts. “Of course, you are. Which is why you hardly leave the house unless it is to avoid your father. And this whole clearing out? Well, that’s most certainly showing how fine you’re doing. And let’s not forget the fact that the full moon is merely a fortnight away and so far, your _alpha_ has not even bothered to come by once to look after you.” With inhuman speed, the man leaps from the bed towards Stiles and presses the boy against the wall. It is just enough pressure to keep him in place, not enough to actually hurt him.

Stiles does not struggle. He knows that he cannot win against Peter. Not yet anyway.

“You’re not stupid, Stiles,” he is able to smell Peter’s aftershave, his soap and even a hint of spearmint from his toothpaste, “you won’t be able to control this on your own. You were not born and raised into this. So don’t act like it does not matter. Don’t act stupid. Argent might not take too kindly to a feral wolf. Particularly if said wolf bears a strong resemblance to the Nogitsune that murdered his daughter however short-lived the shock of loss was.”

He lets go of the boy without leaving his personal space. Instead, he shoves a business card into the kid’s front pocket.

“Scott has no idea what he’s doing. You will call me once you’ve figured it out,” as he turns to leave, he points at the trash bag on the floor, “please burn these for the greater good of mankind.” And then he walks out of the house in the most casual way perceivable.

Before Peter reaches for the front door though, he smiles and waves at the camera installed in the hall. Just to let the sheriff know. Especially since the camera in Stiles’ room has been covered by one of the boy’s boxer shorts. Plaid boxer shorts. Hopefully, the boy is going to get rid of those as well.

He will ask him the next time they will talk.

Because they will talk again.

Peter just knows.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


End file.
